


Sirion Falling

by FactorialRabbits



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Minor Character Death, art in chapter 2, smaller appearances by Elrond Elros and Maedhros, sympathetic if misguided Elwing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 18:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17813324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactorialRabbits/pseuds/FactorialRabbits
Summary: The Feanorians march on Sirion, and the "Queen" attempts to buy time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Additional content warnings: the PoV character jumps off a great height believing it will kill them, for reasons other than being suicidal. The fact she survives is known using canon, but this fic stops before that point.
> 
> I *think* this was intended to be a part of a series, one oneshot per 'major' character involved in the third kinslaying, but the rest are nowhere near done and long projects sound incredibly painful.

Elwing looks between her sons, both still half asleep and wrapped in blankets. It is a little before dawn, but the banners of the Feanorian army have been sighted - much closer than they should have been, but someone slit the sentaries throats before warning could be sent. The fishermen are not yet back from the sea, and with them went the boats. There will be no running this time - the Havens are trapped between the ocean and the trees. For all their plans, for all their thinking, they had believed there would be warning enough to evacuate.

They were wrong. They were so, so wrong.

All she can hope is that this cave is remote enough, difficult to access enough, that the Feanorians will not find her children here. Cirdan will find them; he alone knows of this place. They planned it that way, afterall. 

"Stay here until someone comes to get you. Look after each other, and do not go in the water," she presses a kiss both to Elros' head, then to Elrond's. Elros squirms beneath her, Elrond reaches as though for a hug.

It breaks her heart that she does not have time to give him one.

She has to leave; they have food and water and blankets and toys, but still she fears for them. She turns, pausing and looking back at them. In her heart, she knows she will not see them again. 

"Remember I love you," she whispers, heart broken into four. "Know I love you, and your Atar does too. We love you so much."

The warning bell is rung again, and there is no more time. Elrond cries silent tears and Elros yells for her as she turns and climbs back up the cliff-face. Scrambles up it, scraping her hands and knees. She wipes the tears from her own face when she reaches the top, forcing all but bitter, bitter hatred from her face.

* * *

The battle is already in full force by the time she makes it back to Sirion proper. so Elwing abandons her cloak and draws her sword. The armour she wears was a wedding gift from Princess Idril, and turns aside the arrows with ease. The sword was also, though she knows not what to do with it. 

"Lady Elwing! Go back where it's safe!" one of her people cries out.

"Nowhere is safe," she murmers to the faithful servant. "I shall not abandon you," is what she calls to the crowd.

She sends her guards away, ordering them to try defend the civilians instead... Not that there enough guards to do so - and most of the people here would rather die than lose their homes again - refugees of Doriath, of Sirion, of the mortal camps that fell - but it is all she can do.

As she has done so many times before, she wishes her husband were here. But he is gone. Gone away to try save the world, trying to do it fast enough their children are still alive to reap the rewards.

So she commands her people, doing what she can. They are losing, there can be no victory, but she leads them to take as many down with them as they can. 

The streets are filled with screams of civilians being slaughtered, and the river runs awash with blood. A Feanorian - the eldest, fell-eyed and stained in the blood of even his own - cuts people down nearby. Blood drips down his sword, and it takes all her willpower to crush the fear in her heart. He does not seem to have noticed her yet, cutting down her people before her.

She tries to keep a brave face, but it shatters for a moment; until this moment, she had no believed that elves could be so cruel. Surely no elf could be evil? Despite everything, she had doubted her advisor's words - she does not remember Doriath, but in glimpses of nightmares, not her parents or her brothers or the caves. But to watch the Feanorian cut down elf after man after elf, emotionless and unthinking... maybe the answer is that an elf can.

As she stands frozen, an idea occurs to her. It is a stupid, ridiculous plan. It is not something she believes will work, not really. But if it does... If it does, it might give a few of her people a chance to escape. 

Afterall, she has what the Feanorians want. If she were to bait them... 

In the future she will say it was a careful consideration, a plan weighed up and calculated. It is not. She acts on instinct, a need to save her people, to ensure there is someone left to find her children; she grabs the silmaril from around her neck, pulls the necklace off and holds it high.

"Fiend! Is this what you seek?" she yells.

It may be a miscalculation; her throat seizes in terror as Maedhros the Terrible turns to her. If she is struck down... If she is struck down here, it will not help.

"Your highness, give that to me," the giant coated in blood turns to her, fury in his voice.

"If you want it," she forces a grin, a resigned mirror of the wicked one she is certain lies beneath his helmet. It is the face of a not-quite woman already convinced she will not live to see morning. "Come and get it."

Without waiting for a reply, and she clasps it back around her neck and flees. She leaves them away from the cave where her children are hidden, away from the streets where some of her people still stand. She runs to the edge of the settlement, not needing to look to know she is followed. She is not sure by how many, but she is certain at least the eldest Feanorian does so. She hopes it is more, but even removing just him from the field of battle will save lives.

No definitely at least three sets of feet behind her.

Her boots are sticky with the blood of her people, but still she leads the murderers up the lighthouse. The one that looks out over the sea, leading ships into dock. Where night after night, after reassuring the children and putting the to bed, she stands at the railing and looks of over the sea. Trying to spy the husband she prays never returns, for return means he has failed again; a husband she promises their children will be home soon, but who knowingly seeks Aman on a thread of hope. A hope she doesn't share; even if he succeeds, even if he wins, his blood sentences him to death upon that shore.

It is a little way beyond the borders of the city; somehow, she reaches it. She does not look to confirm, but she suspects she only does because it takes the Feanorian time to cut through the people that let her pass. Only that explains why she has not been shot.

Making sure those following see her enter, she runs up the steps. It would possibly be better to go into the forests, but she knows she cannot run forever. This way...

She wonders, if the silmaril falls into the ocean, will the Feanorians follow it?

Can she bait them into the sea, to drown and die?

It is the only plan she has left.

It is the only way she can think of to save any of her people. Her life for theirs. Her life for the chance someone kind finds her sons.

It is not even a choice.

So up the tower she runs, pausing only momentarily to make sure she is followed. She leads them to the spot where she leans on the railings and gazes out to sea. She pauses for a moment, thinking she sees a flicker of something, then hops up onto the railings.

Her fate is now set; if she drops it, they will kill her. She does not wish to bleed to death; she would rather drown, let the sea that took her husband from her take her too. Maybe he has already drowned - it was most likely, afterall - and this way they will be together.

"Lady Elwing!" there are two Feanorians now, plus guards, and both of them scream her name. "Don't-"

"If you want it," she turns to look at them again, forcing madness into her words. Trying to hide her fear. Looks back over one shoulder - the other shoulder to which she looked at her sons. "Come and get it."

She turns to face them properly. On her lips is a silent prayer, for forgiveness for what she is about to do, and that her children may yet be saved. For a long moment she stares into the eyes of the eldest Feanorian. Now death is here, it is surprisingly easy for her to expect.

She closes her eyes, throws her weight backwards, and falls.


	2. Image

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic previous sort-of inspired the making of this. Both the background photography and the drawing are by me, and it and another version of it can be found on my tumblr.
> 
> It has three titles: Elwing at Sirion, Tempting Fate, or Maedhros Takes Elwing’s Latest Profile Pic Moments Before Disaster Strikes

**Author's Note:**

> Factorial's life update: I have been having even more than expected trouble with my hands of late, of the 'the doctor advised not typing until we knew what was causing it' variety. The what is causing it is now known and I am once more permitted to type, but it is very painful. This was a sentence off finished when I found it in my WIPs, so took a break from writing Lines to finish this off sometime this afternoon. Then got distracted.


End file.
